


This Is My Last Breath (Art Masterpost)

by FlyByNightGirl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Master Post for Art and such, Media Compilation, Til Death: the fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:19:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3096284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyByNightGirl/pseuds/FlyByNightGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Masterpost for the art, music, and chapters of the fanfic <br/>This Is My Last Breath</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Art. (and war)

For the Stucky fanfic [This is My Last Breath](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6146123): an art chapter and masterpost.

[ **☆** ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6146123)

_1930s (pre-war)_  
[Prologue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6146123)  
_1940s (WWII)_  
[Chapter 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6162359)  
[Chapter 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6201824)  
[Chapter 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6259433)  
[Chapter 4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6301109)  
[Chapter 5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6410330)  
[Chapter 6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6504080)  
[Chapter 7](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6712424)  
_Late 1940s (post-train fall)_  
[Chapter 8](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6778988)  
[Chapter 9](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6889908)  
[Chapter 10](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6893582)  
[Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/6994589)  
_The 21st century (off-ice)_  
[Chapter 12](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/7101830)  
[Chapter 13](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/7226876)  
[Chapter 14](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/7363070)  
[Chapter 15](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/7478741)  
[Chapter 16](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/7604099)  
[Chapter 17](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/7710218)  
[Chapter 18](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/7889997)  
[Chapter 19](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/8134287)  
_The 21st century (post-mask)_  
[Chapter 20](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/8263354)  
[Chapter 21](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/8930440)  
[Chapter 22](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/8964772)  
[Chapter 23](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/9265345)  
[Chapter 24](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/9722850)  
[Chapter 25](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/10242444)  
[Chapter 26](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/12851875)  
[Chapter 27](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/13379395)  
[Chapter 28](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/14510416)

December 9th, 2014 - March 25th, 2016

☆

 **Summaries:**  
(which change all the time because I was originally going to do three short chapters following the song Til Death by Barcelona and look at how that worked out.)

 **VI**  
3 extremely-near-death experiences  
2 believed-to-be-death experiences  
2 un-death resurrections

 **V2**  
It's 1943 and there is only one person in the entire world who knows how Sergeant Bucky Barnes feels about Steve Rogers. And she’s not exactly the person Bucky wanted to find out.

 **V3**  
There's a double love story about two boys with 70 missing years in between - somehow Sergeant James Barnes became The Winter Soldier, and this is how.

 **V4**  
☆  
War stories, laughter, dances, disasters, stars. Family, fall out boy, falling, nightmares and two broken hearts.

☆

Final Playlist, This is My Last Breath.

[Til Death](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOJkRxjlULo) \- Barcelona  
[The Kids Aren't Alright](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WR7U7_cKJw4) \- Fall Out Boy  
[No Place Like Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xww6ANGdBYc) \- Mariana's Trench  
[I and Love and You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqBJbdPDigc) \- The Avett Brothers  
[Better](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=khfrZbnbDug) \- Tyler Ward  
[Strong Hand](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GxIhBQAyL8) \- Chvrches  
[Boats and Birds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hn4EIv1-uz0) \- Gregory and the Hawk  
[You Are My Sunshine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9cR-dU0u5aI) \- Elizabeth Mitchell  
[Till Then](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPdidRreduM) \- The Mills Brothers

☆

**8tracks Playlists:**

[This is My Last Breath P1 (Chapters 1-8)](http://8tracks.com/flybynightgirl/this-is-my-last-breath-p1)  
[This is My Last Breath P2 (Chapter 9-14)](https://8tracks.com/flybynightgirl/this-is-my-last-breath-p2)  
Tony's Mixtape 1.0: [Popsicle Boyfriends Roadtrip Mixtape](http://8tracks.com/flybynightgirl/popsicle-boyfriends-roadtrip-mixtape)  
Stevie Thunderbird: [(Blondie 2.0)](http://8tracks.com/flybynightgirl/stevie-thunderbird-blondie-2-0)  
Tony's Mixtape 2.0: [Melting-Ice-Cream Exes Mixtape](http://8tracks.com/flybynightgirl/melting-ice-cream-exes-mixtape)

☆

**Cover art in sequential order:**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


.

**Other misc art (also in sequential order):**

  
(from Ch 2)  
credit to: [xx](http://tricksterkat209.tumblr.com/)

  
(from Ch 9)

  
(from Ch 15)

  
(from Ch 18)

  
  
(from Ch 22)

  
(from Ch 25)

  
(from Ch 27)

  
(from Ch 28)

☆

**Comprehensive Song List**

_Featured in chapters:_

_1930s (pre-war)_  
[Til Death](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOJkRxjlULo) \- Barcelona

 _1940s (WWII)_  
[ Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TUOPvtVZwo8) \- Tavern Song  
[ There'll Be a Hot Time in the Town of Berlin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XwxJuEUr108) \- Glenn Miller and the AAF Band  
[ How Deep Is the Ocean ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ooZgqCT0KZU) \- Artie Shaw  
[ You Are My Sunshine ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jDNDELFF1ok) \- Jimmy Wakely & the Sunshine Girls  
[ 'Till Then](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPdidRreduM) \- The Mills Brothers

 _Late 1940s (post-train fall)_  
[I and Love and You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqBJbdPDigc) \- The Avett Brothers  
[Swans](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gV7ua_T_vVk) \- Unkle  
[Bug in a Web](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ueNfCgCc-Fo) \- Callmekat  
[A Place Only You Can Go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBu1zz6eLuM) \- Needtobreathe

The 21st century (off-ice)  
[Back From the Dead](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FM5g7PUTH1U) \- Skylar Grey  
[Butterfly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZWRGOzyKyw) \- Christina Perri  
[Act My Age](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wI4Ckiss6s) \- One Direction  
[This is Gospel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M9eG4ZXEAd4) \- Panic! at the Disco  
[When the Day Met the Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPPJQNy7bdI) \- Panic! at the Disco  
[Alone Together](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3QJcw9QywVA) \- Fall Out Boy (The Jumpsmokers Remix) 

The 21st century (post-mask)  
[Shut up and Dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbcCG7PkI18) \- Walk the Moon  
[Sidekick](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6-_cF0T2UU) \- Walk the Moon  
[Illusion](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GbNqVNWydZg) \- One Direction  
[18](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRpzJabYlQQ) \- One Direction  
[Jet Pack Blues](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NtgiP95ikIE) \- Fall Out Boy  
[Young Volcanoes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-XUjmkrSe8) \- Fall Out Boy  
[Miss Missing You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTFRePZT1FI) \- Fall Out Boy  
[The Kids Aren't Alright](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WR7U7_cKJw4) \- Fall Out Boy  
[They Can't Take That Away From Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKUHFWiO5yE)\- Fred Astaire  
[End of All Things](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNBshkM77Cc) \- Panic at the Disco  
[Never Let Me Go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNKbeV3wM84) \- Florence and the Machine  
[I Wanna Get Better](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8twpQTna_9w) \- The Bleachers  
[Poison Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18-iW1olcsw&index=1&list=PLmayM75Kb1eLCD6mau0kmj5jC2_fPMgtq) \- Tony Stark  
[Better](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=khfrZbnbDug) \- Tyler Ward  
[I'm Like A Lawyer With The Way I'm Always Trying To Get You Off](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRIpjrYEMnU) \- Fall Out Boy  
[No Place Like Home - Mariana's Trench](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xww6ANGdBYc)

[Ready to Run](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKLBiC-b3O0) \- One Direction  
[Irresistible ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNkivNlkjj8)\- Fall Out Boy  
[The Chain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-8LctWclW4) \- Ingrid Michaleson  
[All You Wanted](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WBrTmVgwvB0) \- Sounds Under Radio  
[Novocaine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjtNPyVwMps) \- Fall Out Boy  
[Sorrow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMxkSqz_MoA) \- The National  
[Twin Skeletons (Hotel in NYC) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMxkSqz_MoA)\- Fall Out Boy  
[The Phoenix](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKOlBZJ7Izs) \- Fall Out Boy  
[Amnesia ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9u3y5fmoAvA)\- 5SOS  
[Samson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6EXUQUXtgI) \- Regina Spektor  
[Uma Thurman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBswx7GEARc) \- Fall Out Boy  
[House of Memories ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KuliCkN2oic)\- Panic! at the Disco  
[Carry On](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q7yCLn-O-Y0) \- Fun  
[Collar Full](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZAIEAG6Vgk) \- Panic at the Disco

☆

_Referenced in chapters:_

_1940s (WWII)_  
[Challengers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8KuHQs858Y) \- The New Pornographers  
[Hero](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-1yu7BLyHQ) \- Family of the Year  
[Boats and Birds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KB3pjvb6mLg) \- Gregory and the Hawks  
[Bullets](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GlvM4Crwgx8) \- Tunng

 _Late 1940s (post-war)_  
[Skinny Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsr8e8oABl8) \- Birdy  
[9 Crimes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMGh3Ts5-WQ) \- Damien Rice  
[All I Want ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqJoVlnmdFQ)\- Kodaline  
[Once Upon A December](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5LFW4uAFGM) \- Anastasia Soundtrack  
[Who Are You Really](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlHvE4_85aI) \- Mikky Ekko  
[The Road](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NI_MI8KYaL0) \- Hurts  
[Almost Lover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39sC_7yfKFg) \- A Fine Frenzy

 _The 21st century (off-ice)_  
[Set the Fire to the Third Bar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANWRhyp-RcM) \- Snow Patrol  
[A Sadness Runs Through Him](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4hewEMQUIuU) \- The Hoosiers  
[Running Up That Hill](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vP0ngiMBnas) \- Placebo  
[This Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WVW_6-VE-uU) \- Black Lab  
[Ghost](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVMkQepuJrk) \- Evynne Holland  
[A Real Hero](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-DSVDcw6iW8) \- College & Electric Hero  
[Agape](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pd2iRd1wDaQ) \- Bear's Den  
[This Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jB4oGdKkmvc) \- Taylor Swift  
[Sleep](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRHz4cPlCRE) \- My Chemical Romance  
[Strong Hand](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GxIhBQAyL8) \- Chvrches  
[Something I Need](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8_xvWdY6Gr4) \- OneRepublic  
[Glittering Clouds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7QhE_SLULc) \- Imogen Heap  
[Save Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fG7Bdiy9iR4) \- Globus  
[Hurt me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qTgG-dtGIfs) \- The Jezables  
[Ghouls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-Ik29Iwc_s) \- We Are Scientists

 _The 21st century (post-mask)_  
[The Green Fields of France](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kqba0IUdiBk) \- Dropkick Murphys  
[Poison](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JLsSqMwNVjo) \- Groove Coverage  
[The Words - ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yO7rjn4Cz2w)Christina Perri  
[World Without You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a14A1LULO20) \- Hudson Taylor  
[Guilty Filthy Soul](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TwwwwmoiZzI) \- Awolnation  
[You Are In Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xXX3AO_hI_Y) \- Taylor Swift  
[Geronimo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-SeaCZE2TM) \- Sheppard  
[Gun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i8wdvHo6C14) \- Chvrches  
[Without You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=94gk1HU236s) \- Angelina H.  
[Eavesdrop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wW-0N347Y0) \- Civil Wars  
[Unfinished Business](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0gDXlYzy_A) \- Mumford and Sons  
[Lover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6bU4zk81iMQ) \- Truslow  
[The Dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpwdwbO1uvM) \- Garth Brooks  
[Drag Me Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jwgf3wmiA04) \- One Direction  
[Emperor's New Clothes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qFF2v8VsaA) \- Panic! at the Disco  
[Ever After](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dzrEn03xiLE) \- Mariana's Trench  
[Golden Days](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8IMYBQA_tZw) \- Panic! at the Disco  
[Me Myself and I ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSfpSOBD30U)\- G-Eazy  
[Runaround Sue ](https://vimeo.com/44910941)\- G-Eazy  
[Art of War](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2H1ynEFShg0) \- We the Kings  
[Incomplete](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jcn746NVJjg) \- James Bay  
[Neopolitan Dreams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clqD8l2IK9A) \- Lisa Mitchell

☆

**External Fanart/Edits/Things**

[from Chapter 6](http://mortal-artifices.tumblr.com/post/131729134334/i-was-broken-in-the-process#notes)  
[from Chapter 16](http://mortal-artifices.tumblr.com/post/139527751889/happy-birthday-to-blackbannersraised-but-what)  
[from Chapter 24](http://mortal-artifices.tumblr.com/post/126121849499/via#notes)  
[from Chapter 24](http://mortal-artifices.tumblr.com/post/125870654484/this-is-my-last-breath#notes)  
[from Chapter 26](http://mortal-artifices.tumblr.com/post/139319139844/they-were-a-war-story-and-a-love-story-and-they#notes)  
Shoutout x 3000 @ [mortal-artifices](http://mortal-artifices.tumblr.com/)

Okay this is a playlist made by the lovely fornhaus and it fits so beautifully and I adore it so much so here  
[It was sunrise. of course.](http://fornhaus.tumblr.com/post/142360272893/it-was-sunrise-of-course-it-was-summer-slid-free)

☆

**Reference and Answer Posts**

For the psychological and physical training in Chapter 11:  
[The Science of the Winter Soldier](http://blackbannersraised.tumblr.com/post/120816088753/i-spent-the-last-two-days-reading-your-stucky-fic)


	2. Эпило́г. (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to [listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clqD8l2IK9A), while you read
> 
> (if you haven't read the last chapter of TIMLB yet, you can find that [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2741975/chapters/14510416))

.

.

.

☆

 

~*~*~*~

Эпило́г. (Epilogue)

.::.

 

July 4, 2018. 

 

If there was one thing the world would remember Bucky Barnes for, it was his dancing. 

He'd started dancing when he was seven years old. There was always music pouring outta speakeasies in the nightlife part of town, but he was too young to be walking those sidewalks. 

No, Bucky Barnes learned to dance in the streets, the just-warming streets of Brooklyn. It was exactly one week after his seventh birthday and Sarah Rogers had taken one look at her boys, all the trouble that boredom like that meant, and ushered them both outside. 

Steve didn't have the coordination or the breath to learn, so he propped in an empty storefront, bent over a sketch pad and scribbling wildly as Sarah took Bucky’s hand and taught him how to riverdance. 

See, Bucky Barnes could swing like nobody else. Because learning the Charleston after you'd already mastered Irish riverdancing, that was nothing. What’s your secret, all those dames had asked and he’d just smiled, triple-stepped into the next perfect Lindy because really, they wouldn’t know what riverdancing was even if he _tried_ to explain. Only person who really got it was Steve. 

Steve. Inhale-- exhale. Little Stevie Rogers. 

~~Moving onto better.~~ Is it worth the painful past? 

Hell yes. Hell _yes_.

 

 _In the coming years, many things will change. But the way I feel will remain the same._

"Steve," Bucky's voice cracked over the word and Steve broke the dance, letting go of extended waltzing hands, wrapping both arms solid around Bucky's back, held close as the room spun around them.

"Is this the end of all things?" he asked into Steve's collarbone, hands curling comfortingly around the familiar suspenders splitting across sheathed muscles.

"Is this what you want at the end?" The soft, low words bled into his skin and Bucky wasn't going to cry.

He clung a little tighter and this wasn't a war-worn floor, their boys weren't waiting at the table, the war outside wasn't the promise they'd never spoken aloud because that was all gone, it was gone forever.

The end. Dancing with Steve, holding each other close - it was this that'd haunted him before, it was this that'd haunt him now.

It didn't matter what he wanted at the end, this was what would be there waiting for him. The first step inside the pearly gates would be into Steve's waiting arms.

 

Okay, so Ireland wasn’t exactly the pearly gates. 

But here they were, years after that first night they’d made love (and less than three hours since the last time they had, but who was counting) and Bucky might not’ve made it to the pearly gates but this sure as hell had to be the closest he’d ever get. 

Lay us down, we're in _love._

It was the penultimate dance of the night and that meant it was the Instructors’ Dance. Which wasn’t his idea, mind you, Bucky may be a damn good dancer but he wasn’t _that_ much of a showoff. Then again, opening a dance studio wasn’t his idea either, but. There were only so many times he could say no to a face like that, y’know? And fine, the kids all loved it, if he was gonna teach Irish Riverdance to the teens of the Donegal he aught to be able to show ‘em how it was done. 

Even if he was pretty sure they all secretly liked watching their other teacher a lot more. 

Bucky couldn’t blame a single one of ‘em. Steve Rogers was one hell of a sight on a dance floor. 

For...admittedly, slightly different reasons. 

The band was live, loud enough to drown out most all the cheers and jests, but he was keeping enough of an eye on Steve across the room he would’ve caught it even if the kids hadn’t all broken into jilted laughter. 

See, Bucky was a brilliant dancer, Steve less so, but he was so fucking precious and he’d get up there trying to do some fancy move and half the time he’d nail it, land the spin perfectly and the other half of the time he’d...fling himself off the little platform stage and go stumbling into the cheering crowd. 

Which was, unsurprisingly, exactly what he’d just done. 

Bucky tipped his head back and laughed, sound bursting through the lively music, echoing quieter, quieter, snagged on the edge of a breath as bright eyes watched Steve finally catch his balance, teetering on the black-heeled shoes, arms spread and finally settling back steady on his feet, full body blush disappearing beneath his loose white shirt. 

He was married to the cutest fucking guy on the planet. Not that he'd ever let Steve hear him call him cute though, not if he didn’t want his ass kicked. 

Although, in the past couple years, they'd found quite a few ass-kicking scenarios that ended up...well, a lot hotter than Bucky could'a imagined.

Apparently he'd been pretty damn right back in the day. Steve really _did_ like getting punched. Well. At the very least...bruised up a bit. Just ask the bruised bite marks on his hip bones that Bucky was most absolutely not thinking about right now.

And as much as he ought to be taking it easy on Steve, today of all days, there were some things he still just couldn’t resist. He’d grown up teasing Rogers nonstop, the day that ended was the day they buried their twin skeletons in some unmarked grave, rolling green hills in the middle of nowhere. 

So he just had to cup his hands around his mouth and shout across the room, over the music, loud enough everyone and their mother could hear it, but dammit, he fucking meant it. 

“Táim craicéailte fút!!” Bucky called and Steve’s head whipped around, lit up like the golden morning, red flush on his cheeks and all. 

And lord, the smile that broke out on his face. It came so easy, startlingly wide and beautiful and pure, everything they'd never gotten to have in those lives before this one. 

Fuck, Bucky meant that shout from the bottom of his heart. _I'm mad about you_. Jesus fuck, he was mad about Steve. Mad right outta his mind and he'd never been on more solid ground. Never had his heart pound faster. Never been a damn lick happier. 

Then his beautiful sweet, feisty Stevie Rogers shouted back. 

“Is tú grá geal mo chroí!”

You are the light of my heart.

Bucky’s chest did that thing he should’ve grown used to by now, all these decades, lifetimes later. But it was Steve, it was still his precious Steve and his chest got so tight, so full he was pretty sure he was gonna burst into a thousand rays of electric gold.

Kicking feet right back to it, shining like this stolen drop of summer as Steve jumped back into the clicking heels, tapping toes, one eyebrow raised, smile cocked sideways as he made his way across the dance hall, closer, closer. 

Bucky put one arm behind his back, the other in front of him, and danced his way right over those scuffed wooden floors, beaming so wide he just might trip and fall over too. That was the most of the falling they did these days. 

That, and when they went to dip in a Lindy without Steve letting him _know_ , that was the _first rule_ of dipping in swing dancing but somehow he ended up on his ass eight times outta ten and really, he was starting to think maybe, it was intentional. 

After all, when he dropped Bucky, Steve _did_ always make up for it. Oh boy, he made up for it. Until his sore tailbone was the _furthest_ thing from his mind. 

The clapping and cheers kicked up three notches as they finally reached each other, middle of the dancefloor, both palms extended, meeting in a castle tower between, dancing round in the circle they’d taught all the kiddos.

Then again, it _was_ a special day, and the song was almost over, it wouldn’t kill ‘em to show off just a little bit, right? 

Bucky wrapped an arm over Steve’s stomach, sweeping him close, both their shoes tap tap tapping, all that noise across the floor, artist fingers curled round his ribs, noses inches from touching as the world sparkled and spun around them. 

One, two, three, four. 

This was the snowglobe he’d been waiting for. The light of my heart. 

“Hey, you're _my_ sunshine, remember?” Bucky whispered, barely mouthing it in this centimeter between him and those bright bright eyes. Steve opened his mouth to protest--

Perfect, exactly the opening he needed. 

\--and Bucky whipped him round, legs kicking up and yeah, okay, you weren’t supposed to dip in Irish riverdance but they taught a lot of styles of dance, he was pretty sure nobody was gonna mind. 

Same swift fighter's coordination, Bucky’s firm hands secure on Steve’s spine, his tiny waist, folded upside-down over Bucky’s thigh, dancing shoes pointed for the sky and Steve’s hands held him so tight, head tipping back to laugh, to laugh, so cheery and joyous Bucky just might hold him here for the rest of their blessed lives. 

The final chords of the song crashed to an end and the entire room lit up, cheering and hollering, clapping from all sides, even the musicians on their stage were in exaltation. Steve scanned crinkled eyes around the upside-down room, tipping his head back further, not a moment’s hesitation that Bucky’d hold him steady. 

Trust, one more thing to be so damn grateful for. 

The last time he'd had Steve in a hold this tight had been...about four hours ago, on the gym floor. Well, detached-garage-turned-gym, so they had all the privacy in the world as that wide, heated smile stared up at him with a never-ending dare in sparkling blue eyes and Bucky's metal arm against his thudding neck. 

He'd just been leaning down to hover a kiss teasingly over Steve's mouth too, when one strong thigh suddenly wrapped around his back and they were rolling--

if Steve had been a good fighter before, he was a goddamn miracle now

\--then sweaty bare shoulders slammed into the padded floor and Steve was mouthing off some breathless taunt about not being just a pretty face in tights anymore but before Bucky could retort something sharp about how last Tuesday night most definitely begged to differ, a knee was hooking under his ribs and he was flipping, groaning into the mat with annoyance that quickly became a lot-hotter-version of annoyance as Steve's wet mouth peppered kisses down his lower back, two artist hands slipping the band of his workout shorts down over his ass and. 

It wasn't _his_ fault they were almost late to their own party. Okay, maybe he could've chosen not to nip the back of Steve's neck in the shower while his arms were wrapped around that strong naked body from behind and ~~not-accidentally~~ instigate another round, but _sue him_ , it was a special day, and the high flush on those pretty cheekbones was totally worth showing up five minutes to nine.

Tonight was a lot bigger crowd than usual -- it had to be, that was what birthdays were for, an excuse to eat all that cake and watch Steve full-body blush as Bucky cocked an eyebrow at him, stole a piece off his fork, lips wrapping slow and sliding off sweet. 

For an excuse to dot the tip of Steve’s nose with frosting, watch that indignant spark light up, nailing Bucky right back only he missed, got his chin instead and it didn’t matter, Steve kissed him there too, once more on the dimple for good measure and Bucky shoved him off with impatient metal fingers that didn’t mean it at all and Steve knew that, if the way he’d caught them and kissed those too meant anything. 

It meant everything. 

Bucky wouldn’t rush him, would never take away that moment of awe as Steve just looked at the world around them, soaked it all in, and kept on smiling. Kept on breathing. Kept on shining. 

Look at him, look at the man he loved. So alive. He was so beautifully, incredibly alive. 

Bucky didn’t rush him, but he had to admit, he was riding the anticipation pretty high by the time Steve finally lifted his head back up, one tapping finger for Buck to pull him back to his feet, bright bright smile and he was already turning for the musicians, to thank them or maybe cue on the next song, but not quite yet, just give him two more minutes, please. 

Metal curled around one broad shoulder, pulled Steve back around to face him, blue eyes landing on him and softening a bit, a split-second’s confusion but the smile was still on that face when Bucky cupped those high-boned flushed cheeks and kissed Steve’s sweet, happy mouth. 

Another round of cajoling cheers went up but Bucky didn’t hear ‘em this time, slipping into nothing but this one single focus, just for one moment, the soft pressure of Steve’s plush lips against his. The gentle press of their chests together, two pounding hearts, still beating in time through all that silken fabric. 

He’d been prepared, to let go then, to shoo Steve back off to wherever he’d been on his way to, shining golden trail following behind him as heads turned and lit up near as bright as Bucky Barnes’ did. 

But apparently Steve had other ideas. 

Steve Rogers and his _ideas_. 

 

"Not all of us can have great ideas," Steve teased and Bucky stopped in his tracks, right at the edge of the bridge as their hands yanked and forced Steve to stop too.

"Great ideas? _Great ideas_?"

"Oh here we go," Steve sighed, and Bucky tugged him in, wrapping an arm around his neck and rucking up his little blond halo with a playful hand. Steve squirmed and pushed at him and tried not to laugh, same way he always had as a kid, still failing miserably.

"Disastrous ideas," Bucky corrected, rubbing Steve's hair one more time before shoving him back to his feet. "You have the worst ideas."

Steve rolled his eyes, taking Bucky's hand again and pulling him along to keep walking. Bucky stumbled a foot before he caught up, making Steve drag him as he squinched up his face and mocked his voice an octave higher, "Oh, let's just storm this really-well-stocked-base from the front, that way they see us coming but at least the explosions will be bigger and cooler looking!"

"I literally never said that," Steve pointed out and Bucky scowled. "Maybe not, but that's what I heeeaard.”

 

Steve Rogers and his ideas.

Bucky wasn't sure if Steve thought that moving to Ireland would leave everything they carried behind, but it didn't. Their tired chests, shoulders, thighs might not be weighed down so heavy, but there were nights the invisible packs slung so hard around his neck he could swear his stomach bruised. 

Steve still woke up screaming. The difference was that Bucky didn't pull him into his arms and _shh_ him anymore, he'd lean down and kiss a wet temple, salt on his lips to match. He'd run his fingers through the soft blonde strands, his thumbs over the closed eyes until Steve's heaving breaths leveled out enough to speak, and that's all he'd do, for hours, just talk and talk. 

When Steve first learned how to speak, Bucky was pretty sure he used every word to start a fight. Now they just spilled, open and bloody like the bulletwound that wouldn't stop bleeding in Bucky's thigh, because most the bodies they lost in their war went up in blue smoke just there then _nothing_ , gone, poof, vanished, like they'd never been there at all and at least they didn't have to wrap and carry bodies but Bucky wasn't sure if that was better or worse than everybody else had it. 

So he let Steve talk, traced his fingers over that thin waist while Steve spilled and spilled until all the horror was either too much or just starting to taper off and then Bucky'd talk too, he'd snag that horrified gasp about the way a gun felt more at home warm from bullets in his hand than it did cold and he'd run with it, run so fast Steve came tripping to follow. Remember, Bucky told him, that time in December it was so cold that Falsworth kept trying to convince you to let him waste ammo, fire off a couple shots into the sky just so he could put his warm pistol against his frozen feet? 

And maybe that story wasn't any better but there was a chance Steve would smile then he'd weave their fingers together, take him and run faster run faster, do you remember, to get him back for complaining about the cold after all those insulating snow comments, Dernier and Jones built that gigantic snowman right outside Monty's tent and when he woke up and groggily crawled outside he screamed so loud Dugan ended up crying from laughter and I had to hold a match by his stupid face so he didn't end up getting frostbite from the tears?

It didn't defrost everything but eventually one of them, one of the _do you remember_ 's struck the right chord and Steve laughed, even if just for the briefest second, and then, _then_ , Bucky kissed him, kissed him so quick the laugh could barely escape then he'd be smiling against Bucky's mouth and sometimes they still didn't get sleep after that but it was alright, the war wasn't all so bad, there were love stories tangled in there too. 

Bucky still woke up screaming (not about the kids he'd shot without thinking, but about all the ones he'd stopped and thought and shot anyway) but that was easier. At least, he thought so. 

All he had to do was let Steve hold him and he'd be alright. 

He'd be alright. 

Sometimes they'd both wake up screaming and that was the easiest, because they'd normally do it in sync, the way everything else they did always had been, and the pitches would always clash, the gasping would always clash and for some reason, those were the best of the bad nights because it was just ironic, Bucky was a poet and Steve was an artist and they could see it, both of them could see it and most nights they both woke up screaming the screams dissolved into gasped laughter before they could dissolve into tears. 

Look at them, look at them, so messed up and still breathing. 

Bucky made Steve Charlotte Russe and Steve attempted Sarah's Irish Soda Bread but it was so bad Bucky'd fed his entire piece to the dog before he swallowed his first bite and Steve was so offended Bucky spent twenty minutes straight trying to convince that pouting face between more gasped laughter that he didn't mean it but jesus, Steve, soda wasn't the only ingredient in the damn thing. 

Sometimes at sunset they'd walk to Mulroy Bay and stand at the waterside and Steve would pick Bucky a flower and he'd throw it into the wind, watch the splash of color drift away on a breeze over the glistening reflection. Steve picked Bucky a lot of flowers. He didn't hand him most of them though, the track record with that still wasn't great. Instead he'd go straight to Bucky's hair, weave them into the dark strands and Bucky would roll his eyes but he'd wear them until Steve picked out the wilted petals. 

There were mornings Steve couldn't drag himself outta bed, and on those mornings Bucky'd go take his morning run down by the water for him, watch the sun come up over the horizon and it was on those days he understood the world. 

When he got back he'd crawl right back into bed with Steve and they'd play hangman on each other's backs in the dark, fingers tracing over bare skin while neither of them managed to hang the other before the other guessed because they still knew each other too well and Steve was always honest. 

But no matter what, tomorrow was always a new day. And for the first time in their lives, tomorrow was always brighter than yesterday. Because the only thing that mattered was tomorrow they'd still be together, and it'd be one day longer they had been, one day closer to the forever they'd promised not to promise.

Everything was new and everything was the same but that hadn't changed, not since all the way back to 1925 and ninety years later. 

Steve Rogers and his _ideas._

 

For once, though, Bucky was… _entirely_ on board with this idea. 

Big artist palms on his jaw and Steve was pulling him right back in, except this time when they kissed it wasn’t soft and sweet, lingering smiles, this time it was _searing_ and Bucky gasped, melting like forgotten Russian snow into those strong, bruise-free hands. 

Then Steve’s tongue was running over his bottom lip and fireworks went off, flashing bursts of color, crashes of sound and twinkling aftershocks drizzling down his spine, shiver making his left arm whirr, plates tightening between Steve’s shoulderblades and by _god_ , he’d never seen a firework show so beautiful. 

There was probably a stunning, mathematically perfected one launching off the Stark tower tonight, maybe Bruce and Tony had designed it together with Sam standing by with that worry-crease and a firehouse, maybe Thor was there to spark everything up with real lightning and Clint shot exploding arrows into the sky while the girls drank champagne and toasted the stars hanging over the New York city lights. 

Red White and Blue. 

They’d be missing them. And sometimes, Bucky really missed them too. All of them. But there were no stars with them here. 

Only thing they had left red white and blue was the burial flag they’d snagged from their Smithsonian exhibit in DC. It’d been something Steve’d asked if he’d be up for, years ago, and Bucky’d been up for going to the moon if it’d put a smile on his best friend’s face. It actually had been a little fun, sneaking into the museum that’d haunted them both. Steve was used to stealing things from there, but duet trouble was always better trouble, even if Bucky smiled at him from under their matching baseball caps and still refused to let Steve see how he got past the damn metal detectors. 

But they’d gotten the flag. Brought it over here -- over the oceans we must cross. 

And they’d pulled it from its glass case, both of them careful and silent as the stars and stripes unfolded before them one more time. Four mismatched hands lifting, quiet, and hung the flag up on their wall. 

Across the room from the easels, perpendicular wall to Bucky’s most recent tentative masterpiece, painting number four. And only about two thousand pencil sketches littering the rest of every inch of available wall space. 

It was a good studio. It was a [good house](http://www.rightmove.co.uk/overseas-property/property-45462532.html/svr/2120;jsessionid=042C2AADC6F430DC713AFD480672DEAF). 

This place was beautiful and mine, yellow bricks and happily-- 

Sarah’d be proud. 

 

However, tonight, here, the firework show flashing brilliantly was just between them; no starry sky but the blue in those twinkling twinkling eyes. Because in Ireland, nobody gave a damn that it was America’s birthday today. 

And neither did Bucky, because to him? It'd always just been Steve Rogers’ birthday anyways. 

Their lips drew apart so, so slow and Bucky sucked in a shuddering breath, inhale, filled up, filled up lungs, and blinked open to the dim gold lights, Steve’s soft _warmth_ , breathless, disbelieving relief turning up that spitfire mouth up at both corners, that small, sincere, reserved one, the one he’d come to know best. 

No, who was he kidding? He’d come to know them all. And he couldn’t wait, to see what changed between the way Steve smiled now and the way he smiled when there were lines lived and crinkles all over that beautiful face. 

Hardened fingerpads brushed the back of his right hand, calluses wrapping around the inside of his wrist and artist fingers weaved between his, hands tangling together. 

No place like home.

Steve tugged him off the platform stage, hands holding on tight, and Bucky went easy, followed his boy right into the throes of loud cheers, lifted drinks, clapping hands on the strong shoulders of the soldierboy who didn’t have to be Atlas anymore. And here was Bucky, burning bright right alongside all that summer sun, and he didn't have to be Icarus anymore either. 

Cause see, they didn’t have a lot, but they had each other. And they had forever. 

Today marked the day Steve Rogers turned one hundred years old. And Bucky had to say, he looked pretty damn good. Almost like he was thirty. Thirty, what an age. He’d never thought they’d make it. Especially not Stevie, when they were younger; but after he’d gotten the letter that’d started it all, dragged him into the jaws of death, into that war, he’d thought neither of them would ever see the day. 

But here they were, thirty and thirty-one, 2018, and he’d never been more in love in his life. 

Bucky leaned over, under all those golden lights and laughing voices, all the commotion mulling around them, and tipped his mouth against Steve’s ear, and whispered to his best friend, a promise, a toast; a prayer, a dying breath, and their first gasp of air, 

“Here’s to one more century.”

 

_May your past be the sound_  
_Of your feet upon the ground._

The final song of the night wasn’t riverdance, it was swing. It had to be, it was them, two nostalgic 1930’s Brooklyn boys who loved it all, but nothing beat that spinning record. After all, it _was_ Steve’s birthday. Bucky owed him a dance. 

_Carry on._

The lights dimmed low and Bucky held out a hand at the edge of the dancefloor. Steve took it. 

War-weathered-wood or shoddy Brooklyn floorboards, immaculately clean tile or concrete roofs, one more dance floor, one last dance, and they were gonna be okay. 

The trumpets came in, band playin’ somethin’ slow as they stepped to the center of the floor, gazes locked, and breathed. 

Then came the glissando and the music cut, fast and bright and brilliant, and Bucky tugged Steve close, spun him out on shining heels, duck and spin, spin, hands locked with broad shoulders tucked against his chest, shoes that used to step on toes to waltz, step-kick in tandem charleston, metal fingers squeezing just a little hard and Steve glanced over his shoulder, eyes nine kinds of mischief with that mouth still set all smiling sweet and Bucky had no idea what crazy plan, wild idea Steve was concocting now but it didn’t matter, he already had Bucky’s answer. 

He’d follow Steve anywhere. 

Everything was golden and warm, smiling, spinning, spinning, and slowly, slowly,

 

It faded to black. 

 

A single light, a simple flash in the dark. 

Shining on a metal hand and the fightin’ artist fingers curled around, holding on tight. 

Holding on tight. 

(To the end of the line.)

 

Выдыха́ть.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you know, that the kids are alright? 
> 
> xx
> 
> in case you didn't catch [the house](http://www.rightmove.co.uk/overseas-property/property-45462532.html/svr/2120;jsessionid=042C2AADC6F430DC713AFD480672DEAF)  
> [Irish Riverdance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoHlrQScWl0) and [Tandem Charleston](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41S_V7FfIeM)
> 
> *bows* Ladies and Gentleman, 
> 
>  
> 
> ****  
> ☆ This Is My Last Breath ☆  
> 


End file.
